


on my knees

by sayjerk



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jared, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Mobster Jensen, Prostitution, Sexual Coercion, Top Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayjerk/pseuds/sayjerk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mobster Jensen has a favorite hooker. It's just that the hooker has a favorite mobster and it's not Jensen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration song: [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lanadelrey/baddisease.html) | [here](https://soundcloud.com/cirobraga/lana-del-rey-bad-disease) || [visual for jeff](https://40.media.tumblr.com/0e9e13b97f6e914ddad273e3cc32e627/tumblr_mk9yzukAqW1rn8n5uo1_400.jpg)

 

 

Jared has daddy issues in the worst sense; he's weak for large men who'll treat him like dirt but call him their little boy and hold his waist too tight, fuck him too rough. And, his occupation allows him easy access to all the filthy, oppressive, possessive men he can handle.

He left home at fifteen because his father nearly beat him to death after he caught him sucking the quarterback's dick when he was supposed to be tutoring him. He started hooking at sixteen when he lost his job at the comic store and had to find a way to stay off the streets and keep his shitty apartment. By eighteen, he's famous is the worst way and fully integrating into the underground mob life of downtown Chicago. Now, at twenty-two, he's something of a prize men shell out thousands for. 

When there are fully grown men who trip over themselves if he even glances their way, it's easy to let that get to your head. As it is, Jared's head is already filled with something else - some obsessive rhythm of thinking about Jeffrey Dean Morgan followed by desperate and failed attempts at trying to think about anything else.

Jeff is one those guys who was born into crime, wears a three-piece suit to drug deals, and looks good smoking a cigar. He's handsome - pretty features too hardened for his thirty eight years and pretty eyes dim with a sort of cynicism that's hard to fight. And, Jared tries. Always tries to make Jeff melt and loosen up and forget all the ghosts of his past in favor of Jared's very talented mouth. And, Jared always comes up short. 

He doesn't know if it's love that he feels when Jeff forgoes whatever slut hanging off of him for the day to drag Jared close by the waist and lay claims on his mouth with sharp teeth. He doesn't know if it's love when his heart sinks when Jeff takes that whatever slut and disappears for the night. Doesn't know if it's love just because he wants to monopolize Jeff's time and body and everything. It hurts so much that he doubts love has anything to do with it. 

 

 

"God _damn_ , he's here again," Sandy whispers into his ear as she passes by with a tray of drinks over her shoulder. She's his roommate, a bartender at the bar Jared loiters in for tricks, and also a very firm believer in the church of Jensen Ross Ackles. 

Jensen is the new face in the underworld - a wonder boy Jeff personally recruited from Dallas - and it's rumored he's going to take over the business in Chicago some day. If that promise of power over an entire city wasn't enough, he's unfairly gorgeous, has a voice that's reminiscent of southern summers and shoulders that fill out his crisp suits perfectly. He's courteous and sweet, could charm anyone out of their pants, and it also doesn't hurt that he has deep green eyes and a smarting of freckles over his perfect nose. 

If Jared wasn't so dead set on conquering Jeff, he'd be drooling just as much as Sandy. As it were, Jensen's entrance is followed by Jeff's and Jared starts grinning by reflex. It takes a few seconds for Jeff to run his eyes over the room and spot Jared, and his answering grin is just this side of too-soft for a mobster. It takes him another few seconds to eat up the length between them with his long legs and curl a hand around Jared's neck to yank him close for a kiss. 

"Hey there, sugar," Jeff says softly against his cheek, hand smoothing a path down his neck and spine to rest at his hip. Jared closes his eyes against the gravel-rough voice and the achingly familiar scent of Jeff. 

Without looking, he knows Sandy is rolling her eyes. She thinks Jeff doesn't treat Jared right and, in her words, isn't nearly hot enough to get away with it. But, her opinion - though valued - is nothing compared to how badly Jared wants to get on his knees whenever Jeff even smiles at him. 

"How have you been?" Jared asks, trying to make it sound casual. The reality is, Jeff hasn't come to the bar for the past three weeks and hasn't had Jared picked up and driven to his penthouse either. The one time Jared cracked enough to call him, one of his men had picked up and told him Jeff was out of town. Hesitant questions about further details got him a gruff _I don't know_ and then a dial tone.  

"I've been real good," Jeff drawls, a soft, slow smirk on his face as his hand smoothes over the curve of Jared's ass - applying suggestive pressure and winking.

"Bet I could make you feel even better," Jared says sweetly, prompting a short, deep laugh out of Jeff. 

Jeff dips his head down to place a kiss on his neck and Jared is jerked out of contentedness by a soft snort off to the side. He blinks at the interruption and sees all six foot something of Jensen Ackles leaning against the nearby banister with a cigarette between his fingers. Irritated, Jared begins to say something but Jeff straightens up and grabs his chin between his finger and thumb. 

"Jensen and I have a meeting soon, but I'll come back for you," he says. And, with a grin and a wink, he's moving away - shouting something at Sandy about the drinks and disappearing off to the private rooms in the back with some of his men. 

Jensen doesn't seem in a similar hurry, languidly pushing off of the banister and putting his cigarette out in one of the ashtrays at the bar. Jared does his best to glare at him - as much as one can glare at someone with a gun and a connection to the most powerful man in the city. It only seems to make Jensen smile.

"Well, _sugar_ ," he says, "I've got to be off or I would have loved to hear all the things you can do to make a man _feel_ better."

Before Jared can open his mouth to tell him he would never have the privilege, the man is disappearing off into the same room as Jeff. 

"God, he's delicious," Sandy says with a longing sigh as she passes by him (and, Jared feels a little pathetic for knowing that the neat scotch on her tray is for Jeff). 

Jared grits his teeth and doesn't comment. Jensen and his Texan charm can go fuck themselves for all he cares.

 

 

It's two hours and one blowjob in the back and three beers before Jared sees Jeff again. He's got a scrunched up hundred dollar bill that was stuffed into his back pocket as he tried to keep his sultry smile and not spit out the taste of come lingering on his tongue. The man had been one of the regulars - of the bar, not Jared - and had been exactly as drunk as anyone else was at 2 a.m. He called Jared _baby boy_ and talked about fucking him _raw_ and _stupid_. It was all Jared could do to not roll his eyes or try to bite his dick off. 

So, he's properly buzzed and the usual amount of burned out when he looks up from his fourth beer to see Jeff emerging from the back. 

He's frowning a little, not quite displeased but not as satisfied as he usually looks after his meetings, and he seems distracted. When he passes by Jared's table, he musters up a smile before saying, "Rain-check, sugar," and sort of kisses his lips, sort of kisses the air a centimeter away from his lips. He's already talking to one of his men as he turns away, whispering harshly about some poor fuck who's probably going to be dead soon going by the crease on Jeff's forehead. 

Jared blinks stupidly as he's left at the table cradling his beer. He wasn't even supposed to doing this - usually he spends this time tending to his regulars, trying to get some new tricks, and working up his income in the safety of the bar. He doesn't have a pimp, no real protection on the streets, but he knows the bar owner and he has Sandy here. So, he worked just enough to afford food, rent, and clothes, and kept the rest of the time free for Jeff. Tonight, he had thought he'd finally get to have Jeff to himself so he'd turned down everyone except the too-eager, too-aggressive _patron_ from before. 

And, now, he's watching Jeff swing his coat on and light up a cigar one of his men holds out for him. In a cloud of smoke, he disappears as abruptly as he'd come and Jared is left with a lukewarm beer. 

He's jerked out of his self-pity by Jensen's teasing drawl, saying, "Don't pout, sugar. Half of Chicago lives for those dimples, after all."

Jared slides his shaken expression into a stiff and cold one as he looks over at Jensen. He's grinning, looking more boyish than malicious, and Jared can't really hold on to his anger when he knows Jensen isn't even looking for a fight so instead he gets up and slaps some money on the table next to his unfinished beer. The silent treatment makes Jensen's grin falter a little and just as he's about to leave, Jensen says, "A lot of deals have been going south lately and Jeff has a mess to clean up. Don't get your hopes up too much whenever he comes around."

When Jared turns to look at him, Jensen is already ducking further into the bar and slapping someone on the back, being greeted loudly. Dripping charm all over anyone he interacts with like it's second nature. Jared shakes his head and turns back to leave, hugging himself against the cool autumn breeze. 

 

 

Jared first met Jeff four years ago on his eighteenth birthday. He'd acquired a nice variety of johns, had become a sore spot for the local hookers, and was well on his way to drinking himself unconscious. Someone was trying to stuff their hand down his pants in the middle of a crowded club when his world tilted and he saw Jeffrey Dean Morgan in all his ridiculously handsome glory. He had the pushy man's wrist in his hand and with a slight twist, the man was pushed down and away - out of sight and well out of mind as Jared blinked heavily. 

"Are you even old enough to be in here?" Jeff asked with a quirk of his lips that only stretched further when Jared frowned and nodded. 

He ended up in Jeff's car, curled up against the window as Jeff talked on his phone and gave his driver some absent directions. He was dropped off at his apartment - the location of which he doesn't remember divulging - and he was half-carried to his door. When he woke up, he was at the foot of his bed with a few hundred dollar bills in his lap and a foreign coat substituting as a blanket. 

A week later, Jeff walked into Jared's usual cruising bar and very disarmingly asked for his coat, subsequently stealing most of Jared's heart and a lot of his sanity. 

Now, Jared is a little two jaded for his twenty-two years, feels too small against Jeff's thirty-eight and feels too unaccomplished next to Jensen's twenty-six. He feels like he's been hooking his whole life, he hasn't seen or heard from his family in four years, and the love of his life is most likely driving bullets into someone's head right about now.

 

 

 


	2. two

 

 

Jared's throat hurts, his knees hurt, but he's good at making winces seem like little shivers of pleasure and he's even better at making pained groans sound like he's tasting the best dick of his life. The thing is, if he'd had a better day, Jason Momoa dick _would_ be the best he's ever had. It's just he started hooking too early in the day and had too many rough clients in between then and now, and he'd really rather be in a warm bath right now than anything else. 

Jason is thick and rough, but he's damn good and he always gives more than he owes. He's also friends with Jeff - one of Jeff's trusted drug smugglers - and that somehow makes the sex better because Jared is sick and pathetic. 

"Fuck," Jason groans out, teeth scraping the back of Jared's neck followed by a huff of warm air that makes Jared arch his back, push out his ass. Jason digs his fingers into the meat of it, thumb near the rim and holding him open as if Jason doesn't want to miss a second of himself sinking into Jared. His other hand in around Jared's hip - pressing bruises there, too. 

His pace suddenly loses it's sharp, quick rhythm and Jared knows he's close. He's the perfect picture of an expensive hooker when he keens and whines just in time for Jason to groan, hips stuttering. 

Jason comes for what seems like ages, grinding into Jared, and then he slumps over onto Jared's back, panting against his neck. 

After a few seconds, he feels Jason fumble between their bodies and pull out of him, taking off his condom and tying it up before tossing it onto the side table. Jared stays where he is, on his back with his face turned to the side, and through the curtain of his sweaty hair, he sees Jason fall onto the bed next to him. 

"God damn, you wear me out," Jason says, voice sex rough and scratchy, and Jared gives him a soft smile. 

Jason turns his body, smoothes Jared's hair off his face and tucks it behind his ear, and dips down to kiss him sweetly on the lips. Jared closes his eyes for the kiss and by the time he opens them, Jason has swung his legs off the bed and is putting on his jeans. He grabs his shirt off of the floor and puts it on, turning to look down at Jared as he buttons up. He looks satisfied and drunk, like Jared is some sort of an ambient, and the cash he fishes out of his jeans and slams on the side table shows that. 

He folds a knee to put it on the bed and leans down for one last kiss, this one on Jared's temple. And, then with a soft pat on Jared's sore ass, he's leaving. 

Jared burrows further into his bed and falls asleep.  

 

 

"I really wish you would keep your tricks out of our apartment," Sophia says as she shakes him awake and puts a glass of water on his side table, wrinkling her nose at the condom. 

"It was only Jason," he says, groaning as he has to sit up, and greedily drinks the water, "You know him. He hates hotels and he can't exactly take me back to his house and introduce me to his husband."

Sophia sighs and Jared closes his eyes against whatever soft, pitying look she's most likely sporting. He knows Sophia thinks he's a hooker because he's never felt real love his whole life and he's just looking for affection or something sick like that from all these men. He doesn't know how to tell her that he's looking for everything except _softness_ \- everything except _love_. 

That yearning part of him is closely under lock and only opens for Jeffrey Dean Morgan. And, even then, only slightly. No matter what Sophia says.

"Honey," she starts and Jared already knows what's coming, so he sets his glass aside and kicks off the sheets to climb out of bed. 

"Long day, babe. Jeff is taking me out."

Sophia rolls her eyes softly and shakes her head.

"That's what he calls it," she mutters but Jared is already moving towards the shower and closing the door. 

 

 

Outside the window, Jared can see Chicago lit up, all the lights looking like stars on earth, and his chest feels curiously heavy. He looks away from the window and reaches for his wine, closing his eyes as he gulps it down. 

"Slow down, sugar," Jeff says, a barely there smile around the edge of his wine glass. 

Jared's stomach is knotted up for some reason and Jeff looks uncharacteristically at ease, like he has all the time in the world. Like he doesn't have half of Chicago waiting for his orders at every minute. He hasn't even checked his watch like he usually does - no matter how many tricks Jared pulls. 

"What's going on?" Jared blurts out, feeling suffocated. 

Jeff's eyes soften and he says, "Just wanted to spend time with you, Jared. Am I not allowed to monopolize you for one night?"

Jared hates that he's blushing, almost rendered speechless with just a few words, and hastens to get the higher ground.

"You've never had a problem sharing me before."

"Sharing is for people who own something and have the leisure to give it up to someone else now and then. But, I don't really own you, do I, sugar?"

Jared wants to say he does, he has since that first night they met and he has every night after, and that Jared is so, so afraid that he always will. That he'll have some part of Jared held in his fist forever and ever and Jared will always feel empty without him. As it is, he swallows his words and tosses back some more wine. 

 

 

As they leave the restaurant, Jeff stirs him towards the elevators with an arm tight around Jared's waist. He's dizzy, feels the world tilt every time he moves his head, and he thinks he might have drank too much. Jeff isn't particularly concerned outside of having swung his heavier coat on Jared's thin shoulders as they left. When the elevators reach Jeff's permanently booked luxury suite, Jeff steps out first and like an afterthought, reaches a hand back and wants for Jared to take it. Then, Jared is steered through a familiar path until he's in Jeff's bedroom and ushered gently to sit down on the bed. Jeff goes to his closet and begins to pull away layers of his suit, taking off all the tiny accessories and placing them in the right places - all ordered and perfect as he is. 

He unpins his cuffs and removes his shirt, tossing it into a hamper. He opens a drawer that holds his cigarettes and pulls one out. When he turns to face Jared, he's got a thin line of smoke besides his usual smirk. He takes in a long drag while eyeing Jared, making him squirm. He seems to come to some private decision, putting out barely used cigarette into an ashtray and walking towards Jared. 

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he asks and even though it sounds rhetorical, Jared finds himself agreeing. 

Softly and meekly, as he does whenever he's under Jeff's undivided attention. 

"You've missed me?"

He cups a hand under Jared's chin, rubs his thumb along Jared's bottom lip. Jared doesn't answer because Jeff knows he has. He knows Jared has been calling his bodyguards and workers, has been hanging out longer than usual at the bar, has been an unbecomingly needy pet waiting for his master.

"Oh, sugar," he says with a sigh, bending down and pressing a hard kiss on Jared's unresisting lips. With that momentum, he pushes Jared back on the bed - one knee bent between Jared's thighs. 

He shifts Jared easily further up the bed and covers him entirely, arms and legs seemingly caging him in. 

"My father used to say nicotine is a nasty habit," Jeff comments lightly as slides a hand under Jared's shirt and kisses his neck now and then, "He used to make all the dealers wait until he was out of the room before they could light up. And, I used to think I wanted that sort of power," he slides his hand down to Jared's hip, then moving to finger the buttons of his pants, "Making addicts too scared to taste the sweet, sweet release that was right there in their pockets. Making them wait. Making their skin itch, making them sweat - just because he didn't like the smell of it. I've strived all my life to be that powerful, Jared."

He rises, one knee between Jared's legs and one against the outside of his thigh, and starts undoing his pants. He gets off the bed to remove them completely, managing to make the act look strangely graceful, and then slips off his boxer briefs. He then begins to divulge Jared of his clothes too, all the while continuing to talk. 

"You know how hard I work, sugar. Try as I might, I can't seem to get where I want to be. But, you - darling, _you_. You've had that sort of power since you were sixteen. Using that pretty face of yours to get men stupid, get them addicted, and then-"

He pauses once all of Jared's clothes are in a pile on the floor and then urges him to get on his hands and knees. Jared is already stretched open. He knows better than to not be for appointments, but it still seems to hurt when Jeff fucks into him in one rough move. 

"Then, you make them wait."

Jared's breath gets knocked out of him with a punctuated thrust and there's a lump in his throat. He's on the verge of screaming or crying - he can't tell. All he can seem to do is beg for more, for harder, for faster, faster, faster. Jeff doesn't listen. 

"You let them see you. You let them see their addiction and you make them wait, and that's what I've always loved about you, sugar. That power. And, how readily you give it up just for me."

Jared's chest aches, feels like he's falling apart every time Jeff pushes inside of him. He's always known he was some sort of a conquest, some sort of _thing_ Jeff felt he had to win just to prove he could. In words - through Jeff's mouth - it somehow feels like he just figured it out. 

 

 

Jeff fucks him for what feels like hours, moving Jared's body into whatever position he fancies, and by the end, Jared is exhausted and the sun is beginning to rise. He's thirsty and sleepy, while Jeff looks like he had a full, restful night of sleep as he pulls on the last of today's ensemble. He glances down at the watch he just put on and then grabs his cellphone off the side table. He frowns down at the screen and taps away furiously. He slams it down on the side table again and disappears into his closet. 

His phone begins to vibrate and Jared gathers some of his strength to crane his neck enough to glance at the screen. 

JENSEN ACKLES flashes on the screen and Jared slumps back down on the bed. 

Jeff comes out of the closet a second later, a new tie hanging around his neck, and picks up the phone - swiping to answer. 

"You better have some good news for me, Ackles," Jeff says gruffly, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he puts on his tie, "Yeah, I fucking bet Giani wanted to talk. God, I'm going to bury that fucking roach."

Whatever Jensen says next has Jeff's tension melting. 

"Good. Perfect. I'll be at the club in an hour. I'll see you there."

He tosses the phone onto the bed, not bothering to watch the way it bounces and lands softly near Jared's thigh. He finishes fixing his tie - looking at himself in the vanity to make some last adjustments - and then finally turns to acknowledge Jared. 

He toys with his cuffs as he says, "Get up, sugar. Busy day for you and me, today."

When Jared blinks at him confusedly (tiredly), Jeff becomes a little more proactive. Within thirty minutes, Jared has showered, brushed his teeth, put on a suit that fit him too well to be made for anyone else, and then has been shuffled into Jeff's town car. Jeff's on the phone for most of the car ride, but Jared knows he wouldn't get any answers either way. They're going to a club - at least he's aware of that much - and if it's a club, that means Jeff needs someone on his arm. Jared's played that role often enough to know what to do, though this is the first time Jeff has dressed him up personally. And, apparently, tailored suits for him. 

Feeling a headache come on, Jared pressed his forehead against the window and closes his eyes. It's going to be a long day. 

 

 

As soon as they're in the club, Jeff is ushered towards the VIP lounge and Jared follows along - can't really do anything else when Jeff's arm is like a vice around his waist. Immediately, Jeff is distracted and Jared plays the pretty, quiet boy-toy to picture perfect. He still remembers the ache from last night, almost wants to tip Jeff's scotch into his lap, but for what it's worth, he's a damn good hooker. He'll play whatever role Jeff casts him in as long as he's compensated for it and this _ache_ can rest at the back of his mind as it always has. 

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Jeffrey."

It's a familiar voice and Jared doesn't know if his headache gets worse or better as Jensen Ackles sits down on the sofa across the table. Jeff breaks off his conversation with some gruff, mean looking guy to smile brightly at Jensen.

"It's been a few weeks, I suppose," Jeff answers and Jensen winks.

"Could have done without hearing your voice every single day, but beggars can't be-" his gaze breaks abruptly from Jeff to Jared "-choosers."

Jared - who has been doing a pretty good job of numbing himself and escaping into dreamworld - is brought rudely back to reality as his heart jerks and picks up double time. Jensen looks back at Jeff and the sudden electricity loses its connection, but Jared's skin feels prickly and warm. 

He thinks he really does need some sleep because all he wants to do is climb over the table and get into Jensen Ackles' lap. 

 

 

 


	3. three

 

 

Jensen Ackles is born into money - born right into the belly of the underworld and fed family strategies with a silver spoon. By the time his father drinks himself and the Ackles legacy to near death, Jensen is a finely tuned gun and ready to take over. They're part of a smaller circle and his father's mistakes cost them a lot of connections Jensen spends his early twenties winning back. Now, at twenty-six, Jensen is in line to lead one of the biggest crime families in the nation. Jeffrey is going to leave for New York soon and after he does, Jensen will own Chicago and any affiliated syndicate. He's the poster-boy of success in the criminal world and yet, he's feeling curiously empty as he sits in the corner of the bar and watches the object of his affections fall into some other man's lap. 

He first saw Jared four years ago at a club. He had watched him all night - this strange new kid who didn't seem like he belonged at all and yet had the club eating out of his hand. He didn't look old enough for the drinks he kept putting in his pretty, little mouth but he made that seem natural, too. He seemed to be having a good time until some asshole started getting handsy. Jensen reacted immediately, moving forward. A hand caught him by the shoulder and he was turned around towards Jeffrey's smiling face. 

He'd said something about getting out of the club, but Jensen made a motion towards where Jared was trying to sloppily push the man off. In that moment, the timeline changed. Instead of Jensen heroically intervening, it was Jeffrey. Jeffrey, whose eyes lit up at the sight of Jared. Jeffrey, who made it seem like he was some sort of a guardian angel. And, Jared's adoring eyes stayed on Jeffrey for years after. 

He thinks about that night now and then. Thinks about how maybe, if things were different, if he got there first, Jared would look at _him_ like he hung the moon. Or, something. Anything other than the sheer disinterest he gets. 

Jensen is shaken out of his musings by a familiar, gruff voice - alarmingly close to his ear as it says, "Why don't you just take out binoculars, cowboy?"

"Fuck you, Kane."

Chris settles into the stool next to him, putting down a beer on the small, round table. He's got a shit-eating grin on his face, hair tied back, and a scar under his lip from a memory Jensen still winces thinking about. 

"I think it's inappropriate in all situations to pine after your boss's sweetheart, but in the mob world, I think it's even more frowned upon," Chris says, all smooth and sarcastic - winking as he enunciates _sweetheart_. 

"Ha ha," Jensen deadpans and it just makes Chris grin even wider. 

They've known each other since they were in diapers, so he's not particularly thrown off whenever Chris makes a joke out of his pathetic _whatever_ it is he has going on for Jared. He _is_ a little thrown off when Chris says, "You should buy him for the night," and casually takes a long sip of his beer. 

He's never even considered it. The possibility has been there all along - for years - but he's never even thought about actually doing it. He doesn't want to be someone Jared spends time with just because he knows he's going to have a few hundred dollars stuffed into his back pocket later. He knows Jeffrey has no similar stipulations - in fact, he says the money keeps it honest. He says the money makes sure Jared never gets any more ideas. 

And, that's the only time Jensen thinks Jeffrey is cruel. Because, in business, Jeffrey is fair and just. He takes what he's earned and he punishes only those who deserve it. But, with Jared, he takes unconditional love and he makes it into a burden. An annoying itch. As if it's worthless. As if he doesn't know Jensen would do anything for it. And, really, it's been a long time since Jeffrey figured out Jensen's stupid crush. 

"I'm not going to buy him," he mumbles, taking a care sip of his whisky and letting the slow burn warm his chest. 

"Then forget about him," Chris says, sounding suddenly earnest and fiercely protective, "I don't like seeing you like this. Either you fuck him out of your system or you _forget_ about him. It's been _years_ , Jensen."

Glancing over, he sees Jared still in the man's lap and with his head thrown back as he laughs. It's a pleasant sound, almost seems genuine, but Jensen has spent years watching him - he knows Jared doesn't give a fuck about whatever story the man is telling him. He even knows the man doesn't care either. His eyes are stuck on Jared's lips, hand glued to the curve of Jared's ass. Jensen takes another sip of whisky and closes his eyes against Jared dipping down to whisper something in the man's ear.

 

 

Jeffrey has been off lately. Ever since he brought Jared to the club and had him sit there all night as he talked business and sex. Jared's been off since then, too, but in a different way. Usually Jared makes time for Jeffrey, cancels clients and ignores rich, rich men for a second of Jeffrey's time. Jensen has spent a fair amount of time trying to do anything to ease the ache in his chest from it to not notice when Jared's attitude suddenly changes. 

For the first time, Jared cancels on Jeffrey. 

He's there when it happens. Jeffrey is strangely jittery, hands strangely unstable as he lights up a cigarette, and his voice sounds rougher than usual as he barks at one of his bodyguards to get him his phone. 

Absently, he looks at Jensen as he puts his phone to his ear - says, "Tell Rodney to move the meeting to four."

Jensen sends a quick text and few seconds later, his phone pings with a response. As he swipes to open the message, he hears Jeffrey say, "Get ready in thirty minutes. I'll come pick you up," into his phone. 

Immediately, Jeffrey's face contorts into a scowl, almost palpable rage and shock littering his features. 

"Who the _fuck_ is _Fred_?" he shouts into the phone and then his expression hardens, "Do you think I give a shit? Just be ready in-"

Jeffrey squeezes his eyes shut, knuckles white where they're gripping his phone, and he hisses out, "Listen, Jared, I-"

After a few seconds of listening intently to whatever Jared is saying, Jeffrey angrily ends the call and tosses his phone to a waiting bodyguard - who catches it even though it seemed to be aimed right at his head. And, then, Jeffrey puts out his cigarette with his bare fingers pinching the tip. He tosses it to the floor and then makes an aborted motion like he wants to throw something through the window but can't seem to decide what. 

They're in a secluded room in a restaurant which gets most of its expensive fishes illegally from Jeffrey's men and Jeffrey looks like he might just burn the whole place down. 

 

 

"I'm so glad you could make it sweetheart."

Jensen hands over a bouquet of roses and accepts the perfunctory kiss his mother plants on his cheek as she ushers him inside. He rarely visits the family mansion, can't be fucked to entertain his venomous, fake little family. But, it's a social event. He has to show up for social events. It's about _image_ , after all. Now that Jensen has slaved away building their prestige to its former glory, his mother can revert back to throwing extravagant parties for the criminally important. 

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," he answers, all easy southern charm, but his mother seems to note his dripping sarcasm regardless - smile freezing slightly before regaining its sticky sweetness. 

She's the picture of elegance, always has been. She's in a black gown that flows down her frame like water and her blonde hair is pinned up with black diamonds. Jensen barely notices her grimace as Alan Ackles steps up and snakes an arm around her waist. 

"Nice to see you, son," he says in a voice that used to haunt Jensen when he was younger - telling him over and over again how useless he was. He's learned to tune it out now, and he only feels a tiny urge to brag about the deal he made this morning just to see his father smile at him proudly. 

"You too, dad," he says, shaking his father's hand as if they're business partners. 

The rest of the party seems the follow the same sort of sordid path. His cheeks are hurting from fake smiling when Jeffrey finally arrives. His parents are the picture of over-gracious hosts as they welcome him - Jeffrey kissing the back of his mother's hand and winking at his father. There's always something so seamless about Jeffrey in these settings. He almost seems genuine. 

Jeffrey finds him after getting rid of his parents, putting a warm hand on his shoulder and saying, "Beautiful house you've got, Jensen. Your mother has brilliant taste."

Jensen almost wants to tell him the act isn't necessary anymore and Jeffrey knows he spends most of his time at his Chicago apartment anyway, but he thinks maybe even Jeffrey can't tell if he's acting anymore. 

 

 

Just as the party settles into the usual high society circle of underhanded insults and backhanded compliments, another guest arrives. It's Jason Momoa and apart from a wristwatch that could get someone through college, he has Jared Padalecki on his arm. Jensen instantly looks to Jeffrey, whose easy smile has suddenly melted away to give room to pure irritation. 

Jeffrey loves Jason like a brother. They've been conducting business together for half a decade. Right now, thought, it seems like Jeffrey wants to see Jason fall off a cliff. 

For a while, all Jeffrey does is look. He watches Jared and Jason interact with different people and runs his finger across his wine glass in a maddeningly even, constant pattern. Jensen watches Jeffrey and sighs. He knows what Jeffrey is feeling right now is jealousy but not the right kind. He's not wondering why Jared isn't with him, he's wondering why Jared is with _someone else_. He's looking at Jared like his friend stole his _toy_. It's unhealthy and it's sick, and it's going to get Jared killed someday. 

When Jared is finally left alone as Jason goes to talk to someone, Jeffrey leaves Jensen with a gruff noise and makes a clean path towards Jared. 

From this far away, Jensen can't tell what's being said - Jeffrey looks angry and Jared looks bored - but he can perfectly see it, read his lips, when Jared says, "No, Jeff."

After a tense second, Jeffrey throws his wine glass against the wall behind Jared. The noise and the mess doesn't seem to gain too much attention. It's a party full of criminals, after all.

Jared seems unimpressed, looking at Jeffrey through hooded and secretive eyes. Like there's a joke here somewhere only he can see. 

Suddenly, Jason is back and stepping between them - saying something soothing that has Jeffrey's shoulders relax just a fraction. Jared rolls his eyes and they tense right back up. Jason gently stirs Jared away, patting Jeffrey's shoulder as he leaves. 

The whole situation is so ridiculous and trashy - fighting over a prostitute - that Jensen nearly laughs. But, he knows the prostitute in question - has seen more than a few man lose their mind over Jared. And, in some ways, he supposes he should be happy. Jared seems to be over his hopeless, puppy love for Jeffrey, but when he watches the way Jared's eyes lower and dim when no one's looking, he can't bring himself to celebrate. 

Something happened after that night at the club and it's broken something in Jeffrey and Jared alike, and Jensen thinks it's only going to get worse.

He spends the rest of the party drinking too much and trying not to track Jared with his eyes. 

 

 

"You always spend your own dinner parties in a corner?"

Jensen blinks up from his phone and sees all six foot something of Jared Padalecki in a fitted suit leaning against the wall - standing so close that Jensen is surprised he didn't sense him coming. He turns off his phone's screen with a light click and slips it into his pocket. 

"It's not really my party," he answers easily, "It's my mother's."

"Ah," Jared says with an exaggerated eyebrow lift, "I see. Poor rich boy with parents who couldn't care less."

Instantly, Jensen is defensive. Because, as much as he knows Jared, it seems Jared knows just as little about Jensen. And, he's making assumptions he has no right to. 

"All the money they have is because of me and I'm not writing sad poems about it, either. You can take your bitchy, judgmental mouth somewhere else."

This makes Jared smile and makes Jensen wonder if maybe Jared does know him - in his own ways. 

"You don't even know what my bitchy, judgmental mouth can do," he says, suddenly sultry, "Don't knock it until you've tried it."

His chest aches. This is the most attention Jared has ever paid him and none of it seems worth it. He's drunk, he's miserable, and he'd rather be drunk and miserable with Chris or Steve or someone else who actually gives a shit about him. 

"No, thanks," he says, even has his dick goes _yes, please_ , "I'll take half of Chicago's word for it."

Jared's slutty, little smile falls, cheeks flushing a delicate pink, and Jensen wants to kiss him until he can't breathe. 

Defensive and flushed with anger (and maybe shame), Jared asks, "How come you've never bought a night with me? I've seen you looking enough times."

And, maybe Jensen is drunk enough to do it, but the honest truth spills out before he can stop it. 

"Because, if I had you for a night, I'd keep you forever and I don't have that sort of money."

He leaves Jared there, cheeks red for an entirely new reason and mouth slightly open - forming around words Jensen doesn't wait around to hear. He makes his way up to his bedroom, the one he hasn't slept in for years, and falls face first into the mattress. Rolling onto his back, he loosens his tie and kicks off his shoes. He's passed out before he can think too poetically about Jared's bitchy, judgmental mouth. 

 

 

 


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> { [jensen visual](https://homensfumando.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/42aca-10172801_726454000731443_3436356338404768080_n.jpg) }

 

 

Jared has been on a destructive spiral ever since Jeff took him out for dinner and then to the club. The night hadn't been totally ruined when they arrived at the club despite Jeff's psychoanalyzing and objectifying and touching - hurting. Jensen had been there and that had made him feel a little better because Jensen was strangely normal in a world of criminals and deviants. And, he looked good enough to be a good distraction against Jeff's tight hold on his waist. The night hadn't been totally ruined until _Vito_  arrived.

Vito Luciano is from a long, rich bloodline of an Italian family that has branched off from New York and into Chicago only recently. He's beautiful with his thick, dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin with sharp cut features. When he came in that night, Jared had vaguely registered it - remembering someone talking about Vito, mentioning how he's showing great leadership and cleverness and how his family is _so very proud_ of his latest cocaine deal. He could have gone the whole night without thinking of him again if Jeff's arm hadn't suddenly left is waist. 

Vito had been sitting just a few inches away on the curved leather sofa, but Jeff had put his elbows on his knees and leaned towards him. Jared's chest had constricted painfully as he saw Jeff's eyes drag over Vito's long legs and pretty face. Prostitution had been a sick attempt at being seen and it served him right that even after giving up his ass on a platter, he was still invisible when something younger, prettier, _better_ came along. 

He'd hastily looked away when Jeff laughed and reached over to cup Vito's knee and he unconsciously started looking for Jensen. Some time during the night, Jensen had gotten up for a private conversation with Michael and hadn't returned yet. Jared's skin had started feeling tight and dry and ugly. He needed someone to want him and nothing compared to _Jensen_ wanting him. 

And, he does want Jared. He's known that for years, but that night, even that had felt impossible. As if suddenly everyone was sick of him and he'd looked down at his suit and at the handkerchief in the pocket, how it looked so gaudy compared to Vito's clean, sophisticated look. 

In desperation, he'd excused himself from the table and despite his best efforts, his heart has plummeted with a dull thump when Jeff had barely looked at him - waving his hand like Jared was some _pest_. 

Stupid, silly tears had sprung up in his eyes and he'd wiped them away angrily as soon as he was in the bathroom. By the time Jason came into the room, he'd calmed himself and was ready for it when Jason grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. He'd noticed Jason watching him and he'd counted on this, holding on to at least some semblance of self-worth. 

Jason had smiled warmly, turning him and pressing him against the pristine white walls - hungry mouth stealing kisses and hungry hands touching him at every sensitive curve of his body. He'd melted against Jason and reveled in the familiarity. Jason got breathless, was pressed so close and still made little noises like he couldn't get close enough, and if Jared had a little more energy, he would have pushed him away and gotten on his knees. Instead, he slumped into Jason and let himself be kissed harshly and passionately. 

When Jason finally pulled away to breathe, he'd looked at Jared and his lust-blown eyes had immediately melted into concern. 

After feeble attempts at reassuring him, Jared had suggested they head back out. _For air_ , he'd said as if the empty, clean bathroom was suffocated instead of the smoke-filled, alcohol-ridden club. Jason had played along - like he always does - and had stirred him back towards Jeff's section, hand on Jared's back and following just a step behind. Jared had stopped abruptly, making Jason run into him softly - warm chest unknowingly keeping him upright as he looked at the absurd scene in front of him. 

Vito was in Jeff's lap, hands in Jeff's hair as they kissed - all tongue and desperation. 

A brittle laugh escaped Jared even as he felt that stupid sting of tears again. 

He'd shaken Jason off and left the club. Somehow, being outside was just as suffocating. When he'd gotten home, Sandy had been drinking water in the kitchen - still in her uniform from the bar and with a million problems of her own without having to worry about stupid, silly, useless Jared. He'd mustered up a smile and had a beeline for his room when she started frowning. 

That night changes things and Jared is surprised to find even he has limits. Apparently Jeff openly playing with his feelings and then kissing the personification of Jared's insecurities is it. 

 

 

Showing up to the Ackles' party on Jason's arm is a calculated risk. Propositioning Jensen is an impulsive risk. Both of them get him nothing but heartache and he leaves the party alone. Jensen's words ring in his head ( _If I had you for a night, I'd keep you forever_ ) - so loud and repetitive that he has barely room to think about Jeff confronting him, being uncharacteristically out of control. He'd looked wild when he'd cornered him, like he was seconds away from crushing his wine glass in his fist, and he'd said something possessive and angry that instantly made Jared's head pound. When Jeff had thrown his glass at the wall in a fit of jealous, childish rage, Jared had felt numb and stupid for hero-worshipping this man for _years_ and even stupider to realize he doesn't know how to stop. Jason had shown up out of nowhere, being the skillful mediator that got him further up Chicago's underworld than any orphan, unaffiliated thug from the streets has gotten. 

Even now, though - even now as he sits at his usual bar and flirts with someone old enough to be his father - he can't stop thinking about how perfect Vito had looked in Jeff's lap and how maybe Vito was the type of person Jensen Ackles would fuck. Not some washed up whore who'll open his legs for a couple hundred bucks. 

Vito with his perfect mouth and _cleanness_. Born into money and raised with silk and gold. Vito probably wouldn't sit in Jared's bar stool without laying a handkerchief on it first. Vito would probably scrunch up his perfect nose at the hands on Jared's skin, creeping under his shirt and holding too tight. Vito probably wouldn't have to bat his eyelashes to get a man's attention, wouldn't have to feel stupid thinking Jeff might want him for forever or always or happily ever after. 

Jared closes his eyes and slumps into the man whose name he hasn't bothered learning, who's whispering filth into his ear about how long and where and exactly how hard he'd like to fuck Jared. 

"You'd like that, won't you, baby?"

He's trying to muster up the energy to respond when there's a sudden, gentle hand on his shoulder pulling him away from the man and against a warm, hard chest. 

"I think what he'd like right now is sleep and maybe less of your shitty porn dialogue, Costello."

 _Costello_ , Jared thinks, _is that his name?_ Either way, the man groping Jared is suddenly getting up with a gruff curse and muttering under his breath as he leaves. The empty stool is immediately occupied by Jensen Ackles. The warm chest Jared had been leaning back on is, consequently, gone and he nearly tips back but Jensen grabs his elbow and pulls him forward. Once Jared has an arm folded on the bar, Jensen lets go and leans back. The motion of seemingly respecting Jared's space as anyone would do for anyone else almost makes him laugh because he hasn't experienced that courtesy for years now. Apparently being a hooker means you must also be open to lack of manners and common human decency and social conduct. 

"You don't have Sandy looking out for you tonight, kid?" Jensen asks absently as he waves at the bartender and gestures once in front of him and then at Jared, "I thought y'all had a system."

Jared wants him to go fuck himself and his upsettingly hot drawl, but he's dead on his feet and Jensen is warm and Jensen is making alcohol appear out of thin air. He grabs the glass and takes a loud sip - not even blinking at the fact that Jensen knows his exact drink. Warmness spreads over him and he feels a little more awake, heart pumping. He hasn't eaten for hours and the alcohol works like magic. 

"Slow down," Jensen says and Jared's withering look dies as soon as it comes when he looks to the side and Jensen has his chin in his palm and is giving him the sweetest smile. It's the sort of smile hookers learn not to yearn for and Jared instantly wants to leave. His anxiety must show because Jensen straightens and turns to look at his gin. 

Swirling the liquid around and staring at the maddening pattern, he says, "Just thought you could use a break. Chris said he's seen you working since ten."

Jared snorts - fucking _Kane_ \- and says, "So, you have your buddies keep tabs on me, but you won't buy me for a night? What a gentleman."

Jensen just keeps smiling and ignores it. 

"Do you need a ride back to your apartment or is Sandy coming in soon?"

"Sandy is staying over at Danny's. It's their second anniversary or some shit, and no, I don't need a fucking ride, Ackles."

"Just thought I'd ask," Jensen says, as charming as ever, "since that scotch seems to be really kicking in and I don't trust anyone else with you half-asleep."

Jared has a sharp, witty response on the tip of his tongue, but Jensen is suddenly getting off his stool in an unfairly graceful flourish and grabbing Jared around the waist as he tucks a few bucks under his half-finished gin. He smells good and he's warm - that's what Jared is going to blame for forcing him to curl into Jensen and sort of, kind of nuzzle his neck. 

He's out by the time he's been dumped in Jensen's spacious town car. 

 

 

He wakes up in his apartment. For some reason, that surprises me. Had it been Jeff, he'd be naked and in Jeff's bed. But, as usual, Jensen is different. He's in his bed, in the clothes from last night, and there's a glass of water with a power bar on his side table. There's also a note on a ripped up piece of paper and he grabs it at the same time as he takes the glass of water and gulps it down. He absently wipes at his mouth as he reads the smooth cursive. 

_Eat. Sleep. Bitch me out. In whatever order makes you happiest._

There's even a fucking smiley face under it and it makes Jared laugh - loud and carefree in way he hasn't been forever. It's just so ridiculous to see a hardened mobster use a smiley face. His good mood dissipates slightly when he notices the phone number scrawled on the bottom edge of the note, all neat and pretty.

"Someone might think you're a normal, law-abiding citizen, Mr. Ackles," he muses out loud, shaking his head.

He decides on eating, stuffing the power bar into his mouth, and then calling the number.

It takes three rings before Jensen's molasses drawl is washing over him and making him feel strangely light. 

"You've decided to prioritize me over sleep, I see."

"How did you know it was me?"

Jensen laughs softly and says, "I've had your number saved for years," - Jared's chest constricts at the ease with which he admits it, as if there's no shame to pining, no reason to hide it - "Have you eaten, at least?"

Jared is still stuck on the _years_ and his voice is hesitant and almost breathless when he asks, "Why won't you buy me?"

"I've told you before-"

"Semantics," Jared nearly shouts, "I'm just one of the hundred hookers in this god forsaken city and you don't need any of them. With your money, your status, your _looks_ \- you're so much above hookers and me and I'm just. Fuck, forget it. I don't know why I keep doing this."

He closes his eyes and takes shaky breaths. 

Jensen gently asks, "Keep doing what, Jared?"

Opening his eyes, he looks down at Jensen's note in his lap, tracing the curves. The initials J.A. at the corner. The smiley face.

"Wanting men I can't have."

Jensen probably has a perfect, disarming reply ready on his perfect, disarming mouth but Jared lets his hand fall down as he swipes a thumb to end the call. He looks at the note again, rereading it a dozen times. He looks at it for so long it feels like the letters might peel off the page and choke him, punish him for wanting a permanent, personal slice of a man he doesn't deserve. 

 

 

The next time Jared wakes up, it's to a missed call from Sandy, a voicemail from Jeff, and a text message from Jensen. He calls Sandy back first and after listening to some loud, overwhelming fussing, assures her he's taking the day off. Next, he opens the voicemail. 

"Jared? Pick up your fucking phone, Jared. Bobby says you haven't been to the bar in two days and you haven't taken any clients. If this is a ploy at my attention, sweetheart, you have it and you're going to regret it. Call me back as soon as you can and don't test my patience. You're not going to like what happens if I have to look for you myself."

The threats are new. Jeff has always been very careful about manipulating in a subtle way. This outright anger scares Jared, but not enough to call back. He realizes he's been viewing all this notifications in the order of how much they scare him and what really scares him is Jensen.

It takes a few deep breaths to open the message ( _messages_ , four bubbles in a row) and his heart swoops and sinks with every word. 

_I hope you got some sleep and some more food. If you need some easy labor to pay rent, call the contact I'll share after this. He's an old friend, runs the local animal shelter, and it'll be desk work. I'm not telling you what occupation you should have, but your current one isn't going to be very lucrative if you're dead on your feet._

The next bubble is the contact and then it's two more sentences - compact and sharp in a way only Jensen could manage.

_I don't know who's made you think you can't, but you can, Jared. You can have any part of me you want._

And, he ends it with one last text: _Get some sleep and call that number_. 

It takes a few seconds for Jared to realize the drops falling on his phone screen are tears.

 

 

 


	5. five

 

Jared sleeps for what feels like days and rolling out of bed is quite the task when his bones feel like jelly and he's all pleasantly warm and properly rested for once. But, the rent won't pay itself and he has a lot of catching up to do. There's a sticky note on his bedside lamp and he immediately recognizes Sandy's scrawl telling him she won't be at the bar today - will be covering Danny's shift at Club Intel. Eventually, he musters up the energy to clean up and put on some fresh clothes. In his tightest jeans and sheerest tops, he feels every bit the hooker he is but the texts from Jensen make him feel like something _more_. Something other than a boy who doesn't have a family and gets on his knees at the first flash of green bills. 

When he walks into the bar, he feels the immediate slither of eyes on him and relishes in it. Maybe he's not from old money and maybe he doesn't have that sophistication _Vito_ has, but he's been in this business for years and there's a reason he's talked about in all threads of Chicago's underworld. 

It's just his luck that his little fabricated bubble of self-worth is popped in a heartbeat as he settles into his usual spot and on his cursory glance around, notices Jeff sitting on one of the round tables in the back. There are drinks and resting cigars and playing cards all over the table, loud laughter and men acting like they wouldn't put a bullet through anyone on the table given the chance and a reason. 

It's just his luck that as he's getting ready to leave the bar, Jeff looks up. 

His entire demeanor shifts. Pleasant laugh lines disappear into a smooth mask of indifference with just the tiniest crackling of anger. He slips the charm back on easily as he excuses himself and laughs at whatever joke one of the men made. The distance between them is eaten up by slow, calm strides and soon enough, Jeff is standing a feet away. He's not really in Jared's space but he finds himself moving away regardless - the edge of the bar digging into his back. He's sitting with his legs apart and for some reason, that makes him feel vulnerable. He's thinking of an inconspicuous way to close them when Jeff makes an aborted move, almost like he's going to hit him or grab him. 

Jeff's jaw is clenched and it looks like it's taking all his energy to calm down whatever that burst of emotion was - anger or urgency. 

"Did you get my voicemail?" he asks in a perfectly regular voice, though the undertone is tense and his whole body looks rigid with it. 

Jared breathes in and lets it out with a deep sigh, swiveling back in his stool until his elbows are resting on the bar. Not having Jeff's eyes boring into his is only one of the reasons he turns, the other is to order a drink that'll hopefully get him through this conversation. 

"I did," he says simply as he catches one of the bartenders' eyes (Susie, he thinks he remembers Sandy telling him once) and picks up an empty beer bottle over the counter to wiggle it. She nods her head and he watches her brings out another bottle like the one he wiggled. She cracks the cap open against the edge of the counter and sets it in front of him. The monotony of the entire process calms him even as Jeff settles into the stool next to him, elbow on the bar but legs swung out and facing Jared. 

"Sweetheart," Jeff says and for the first time, it isn't dripping with sweetness. There's a deadly edge to it that makes Jared skin itch with anxiety. 

"Didn't think you'd miss me, Jeff."

Fuck. 

He'd been hoping to go with the indifference routine. Something flouncy and airy and detached. Instead, his voice comes out pinched with bitterness. He takes a long sip of his beer and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, immediately lowering it once he notices how shaky it is. 

 _Fuck_. 

"Of course, I did," Jeff says, dropping the anger for charm, "You underestimate how deeply I care for you."

Jared snorts on reflex, really can't help the gust of disbelief that floods him. Looking to his side, he's met with Jeff's frown and that crackling anger again. 

"I had a client," he says and his mind helpfully provides imagery of Jensen, making the excuse instantly wrong and off-putting.

"Bobby knows every whore and every john in this city, and he's told me for a fact you haven't been fucking around. Try again, sweetheart."

Jared sighs and takes another long sip of his beer. Maybe it's liquid courage, maybe it's just pure irritation at Jeff ruining the mood he had walking into the bar - the first time in _years_ he's felt good about himself. Whatever it is, his words come out razor sharp when he says, "Try this, mind your own business."

He leaves then - leaves Jeff''s blank look just barely starting to contort with rage, leaves his nearly full bottle of beer for Jeff to pay for. 

It's a small victory but he's feeling light nonetheless.

 

 

He spends the rest of the night doing two things in random order over and over: he fucks random men or he thumbs Jensen's number, taps his phone screen absently until he has the digits memorized front and backwards. It's an empty routine, gets him nothing except a sore ass and stinging eyes. Around three, he drops by Club Intel to give Sandy a kiss on the cheek and scavenge for one last client. He can tell from the look she gives him that she wants to drag him to the back to give him another one of those, _you're better than this_ , speeches, so he squeezes her waist reassuringly and escapes into the crowd. 

Eventually, Jared ends up finding some uptight man in his late twenties who grumbles about the family business and looks sinfully good in a suit. With the light hits him just right, he looks a little bit like Jensen and it's more than half the reason Jared offers to suck his dick for free. He ends up in the back-room, surrounding by grunts and moans and his knees on a filthy floor and his hair held tight in the man's hand. He's got an impressive gag reflex but the man seems to have an even more impressive aggression and Jared nearly chokes a few times. 

After the man's found his release, Jared is yanked up and has his face pressed against the wall. The man is trying to weasel a hand into his pants when there's a muted shout and the man is yanked off of him. He's drunk and he's tired and he's more than a little fucked up, but he manages to turn his cheek weakly against the wall and make out a blurry version of Jason Momoa.  

It doesn't surprise him when instead of tucking him into his bed like Jensen did, Jason simply buys Jared for the rest of the night. 

 

 

He wakes up smelling like alcohol, feeling like shit, and with come drying between his thighs. Jason is passed out on his stomach and Jared barely spares him a glance as he makes his way to the bathroom. Jason picked out the usual hotel and the pristine white marble of the shower almost feels like a second home at this point. After he's cleaned up, he wiggles into his clothes from last night and grabs the wad of cash on the side table. He's pulling on his boots when an arm loops around his waist and he's pulled back against Jason's chest, his stubble tickling his neck when Jason leans down to kiss it. 

"What's the rush?" he mumbles and Jared sighs. 

He lets himself be turned and softly guided back into bed. Jason starts talking about a party and Jared has an excuse all ready until Jason starts talking about the guest list. Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Jensen Ackles, and Vito Luciano. 

Jared has never felt his chest tighten with such apprehension as when he agrees to go. 

 

 

As far as crime family parties go, it's a dull one. Jason abandons him halfway to go take a phone-call and Jensen comes in a few minutes after. Even from across the large hall, he looks as handsome as ever and Jared thinks about leaving. Jensen seems to find a group at the far corner and lights up a cigarette as he seemingly starts talking business. Jared looks back over to where he'd first seen Vito, standing and chatting with the party's host - Joseph Masseria. For some reason, all he can think about is Vito somehow running into Jensen and _something_ happening. It's playing like a sick film in his mind when someone else makes an entrance, sweeping into the hall in his usual three-piece suits and a cigar between his fingers. He's laughing loudly with the group he enters with and Joseph breaks away from Vito to go greet him. 

He's all charm and pleasantries until he meets Jared's eyes. 

Instead of the anger Jared has expected, he encounters blankness. It's considerably more unsettling and there's a now nagging thought in his mind about how Vito is alone now. And, then, Jeff excuses himself and starts making his way over to Jared. In panic, he looks around - tries to find Jason, tries to keep a tab on Vito and Jensen, and somehow melt into the crowd at the same time. 

It's feels fruitless when Jeff reaches him in a few seconds and aims that devastating smile at him. 

"Glad I ran into you, sweetheart," he says, "I was looking for opportunity to apologize for my behavior this morning."

Jared tries not to take a noticeable long breath to calm himself and says, "No need. Forgiven and forgotten."

Jeff's smile tightens but his voice remains soft as he says, "Regardless, I'm sorry. I was simply worried and when you didn't answer my calls only to show up completely fine, it upset me. I shouldn't have screamed at you. I know I've been neglecting you, but it's not reason to act up like this, sweetheart."

Jared nearly laughs. 

"I'm sorry I'm not available twenty four seven to fuel your little power trips, Jeff, but I do have a life outside of you."

"Of course, you do," Jeff says without skipping a beat and Jared's resolve begins to crumble. He's looked up to this man for so long, sought his affection, tried to find some missing pieces of his heart in this man. He thinks a part of him will always fall weak against Jeff's sweet words, but he gathers his wits enough to abruptly end the conversation and start moving towards the open bar. It's a little set-up in one corner of the hall and he's ordering gin before he's within arm's distance of it. 

It's just his luck that Vito is leaning against the bar and looking somehow even better than the night at the club. It's just his luck that Jeff is following him and ends up at the bar, too - instantly distracted when he spots Vito, whose eyes light up when Jeff touches his shoulder. 

Ever the gentleman, Jeff exchanges pleasantries with Vito only to turn to Jared and say, "Jared, this is Vito Luciano. I believe you've seen him before," - he squeezes Vito's shoulder, "He's a very promising addition to my circle."

Vito is all pretty smiles and bashful looks, and Jared struggles with the urge to roll his eyes. 

"And, Vito, this is Jared Padalecki."

There's nothing added to it and Jared is almost thankful for that until Vito's eyes widen and he says, "Oh, the hooker!"

He startled when Vito suddenly grabs his hand between his and starts rambling about how daddy dearest sent him to London for college and he majored in something useless and wrote some useless research paper on prostitution and how _fascinating_ it is it meet a sex worker in real life.

"You're nothing like I imagined."

Jared smiles tightly and says, "You must not have done that much research then."

Vito's vapid smile starts to lose some of its over-shine when Jeff interjects and veers Vito away.  Jared watches Jeff's hand on the small of Vito's back and lets the gin burn his throat. 

 

 

Once he has alcohol in his blood, he starts feeling suffocated and disoriented, and has to leave the hall. Outside, there are little lounging corners full of grandiose furniture and plush, ornate seats. He leans against the wall next to the large double doors of the banquet hall, feeling the dull thump of pretentious music and the chatter of people who won't ever be locked up because the people supposed to lock them up are probably in there too, sipping wine. Closing his eyes allows him a momentary reprieve from the richness of his location. This is every weekend from these people - crime, sex, drugs, and then renting out some banquet hall in some grand hotel of Chicago and hosting a party like they're respectable citizens of society. Jared nearly laughs. For what it's worth, he's never pretended to be anything other than a hooker. 

"You always spend parties alone in a corner?"

His heart is at his throat instantly, reacting like a trained puppy to Jensen's voice. As soon as his eyes are open, he's searching for the man and then eating up the sight of him like he's been starving for it. Jensen is in a three-piece suit similar to Jeff's except his is tightly fitted and has a modern cut. He's got oxfords on that tap the toe of Jared's boots (his only good pair reserved to match whatever absurdly expensive suits his johns put him in for parties). The contrast is still clear - something clearly pricey and new versus something carefully saved and meticulously cleaned. Jared think it's strangely reflective of them as people. Because, for as many crimes as Jensen has likely committed, he probably never goes to sleep feeling as used up and dirty as Jared does. 

"Not really my party," Jared says with a soft smile, playing along. 

Jensen smiles back, open and warm and so achingly handsome. Jared looks down at his shoes again. 

"I'd hoped you'd take the desk job," Jensen says but there's not judgement in his voice, only curiosity. 

Jared thinks back to the number he has saved in his phone and the email he sent in the morning forwarding his resume. The thought of working with animals had been tempting enough - he'd have taken it even if Jeff had dumped the number on him after using him for the night. 

"It's only been a day and I still have to make rent. Sandy shouldn't have to pick up my slack. And, even then, the job won't make me nearly enough so I have to keep this job, too. Might as well put in the hours," he says, laughing at his own tasteless joke. 

Jensen doesn't laugh but his eyes stay soft - warm green. Their scrutiny makes Jared shift uncomfortably, resisting the urge to look back at his shoes like a lost child. As if he needs to give Jensen more reasons to pity him rather than desire him.

Abruptly, a thought comes to him and before he can help it, he's blurting out, "Do you know Vito?"

Jensen frowns in concentration, eyes far away for a second before refocusing with recognition.

He says, "Yeah, I think. One of the Luciano kids, right?"

Jared's stomach twists and he says, "Right," through a tight smile.

"What about him?"

Jared just shakes his head and looks past Jensen's shoulder - his throat suddenly tight with emotion he's so, so afraid of showing. Perfect, perfect Vito can probably get Jensen into bed with him without a monetary exchange. Perfect, perfect Vito could probably play toss with both Jeff and Jensen's hearts - watch Jared's intimate desires crumble with a grin. 

In a flurry of panic and desperation, Jared closes the distance between them and reaches for Jensen's collar - yanking him close and making to kiss him. In another flurry of movement, he's pressed back against the wall with Jensen's forearm across his collarbone and his other hand holding Jared's wrists captive between their stomachs. 

For the violence in his actions, Jensen is awfully gentle as he says, "Not like this."

Jared thinks he might scream.

"Yes, like this," he breathes out, struggling against Jensen's hold, "Kiss me, fuck me. _God_ , do _something_ that'll make this fucking ache go away, you fucking-"

Jensen lets go of his wrists to touch his jaw - the light movement so sweet it startles Jared. 

"Not like this," he repeats and strokes his thumb against Jared's skin, "I've told you before and maybe I should have put it in a clearer way. I won't share, Jared. Not with Chicago, not with Jason, not with Jeff. Like _this_ means having you for a few moments before you're back under Jason's arm and going home with someone else. Like _this_ means you'll drink yourself stupid over Jeff and I won't be able to do jackshit because I still answer to _him_ and not you. So, no - not like this. Never like this."

He lets Jared go entirely then, stepping away and straightening his suit's cuffs. 

Slightly dazed, Jared stays pressed against the walls - all his limbs exactly where Jensen had placed them. 

"Now, go back in there and be whatever you need to be to make that rent," he says, "But don't _ever_ ask me to kiss you after you've spent last night in some other man's bed."

Jared's heartbeat is loud and ringing in his ears long after Jensen leaves. 

 

 


	6. six

 

Jensen hadn't meant to treat Jared so roughly, doesn't even know how he managed to not kiss Jared and selfishly eat up everything he'd offered. But, there was something about seeing Jared on other men's arms that was really starting to grate on his nerves. He didn't want to tell Jared how to live his life and he certainly didn't want to lay claims he had no right to, but there was something about seeing Jared open himself up to people that would only hurt him and _had_ hurt him - over and again. Seeing Jared distance himself from Jeffrey had brought the most peace Jensen had felt with Jared's profession, but it was a short reprieve. Jason was the lesser of the two evils, but there was nothing pure about his intentions.

There's nothing surprising about men fixating themselves on Jared - he's alluring, he's pretty, and he has eyes that promise filth and sugar sweet innocence that never loses its shine no matter how many other men you know have gotten to taste it. He's a siren song amidst this dirty world and Jensen doesn't fault Jason for grabbing Jared up as soon as Jeffrey's grip loses.

But, where there's sweetness, there's also fire. Jared has his demons and he isn't above using these men as pawns. If Jared actually found something good and healing from Jason, Jensen wouldn't think twice about it, but he knows Jared is only sticking close to Jason to get at Jeffrey. It's messy and it's awful and for Jared to try to kiss him - Jensen had nearly snapped.

He can come to terms with Jared's profession - that's all he's done for years, after all - but he refuses to be a pawn. Not even for Jared. And, he refuses to be just the second escape Jared used after Jason didn't work. He'd noticed the strange inquiry about Vito and it's no secret Vito has caught Jeffrey's eye.

He's never held any judgments against Jared's profession, but the clientele - that's another matter all together.

 

 

He goes to Dallas for a deal, but Chris tells him in his week of absence, Jared has been taking progressively less clients. He ends up staying in Dallas for longer, heart a little more at ease, to try and make a few more connections. There's something incredibly helpful about being affiliating with people who have easy access to the border. By the time he's catching a flight back to Chicago, it's been a month and he's missed the city and certain occupants.

Chris had kept him routinely updated on Jared, but it's still startling to drive by the animal shelter and see Jared tickling a puppy's nose and laughing. He only works Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, and only from morning to afternoon, but it warms Jensen's heart nonetheless.

Jared is blossoming right in front of his eyes, looking more at peace than he ever has. Jensen had been unsure about offering the job - didn't want to make it seem like he was telling Jared what to do or what job to have, because he'd certainly heard enough opinions from enough domineering men - but in this moment, Jensen hasn't felt more proud of a decision.

There are signs on the animal shelter obstructing Jensen's view, but he sees Jared get up, the puppy cradling in one arm, and go over to talk to the girl at the register. She's tiny with a beautiful smile and long brown hair. Jensen thinks her name is Genevieve, if he remembers Chris' briefing correctly, and he can tell she's made fast friends with Jared - fondly looking on at the pair like she can't tell who the puppy is.

This is the sort of admiration he's always for Jared. Not of form, of technique, of the pretty way he smiles - but, just of _him_. Him in baggy jeans and a loose sweatshirt with messy hair and exuding sunshine.

Jensen gets back in his car and softly instructs the driver to head to the penthouse. He's dead on his feet from little sleep and a long flight, and he thinks Jared's smile will lull him right to sleep as soon as he hits his bed.

 

 

During Jensen's time in Dallas, he'd been told that Jeffrey took a similar trip to New York - though more to solidify his own connections rather than Chicago's. That had offered him some extra peace, knowing Jeffrey wouldn't be around to mess Jared up, but at the same time, it had felt unsettling. Jeffrey usually consults with him before going on long trips, but they've barely talked for a month. Something's been off between them since Jared started freezing Jeffrey out and Jensen wonders if the man knows he's been helping Jared.

To get rid of a restless anxiety at the pit of his stomach, Jensen decides to go down to the bar and get a few drinks in him. He had an appointment with Chris' warehouse men in the morning but he's free for the night and nothing settles him quite as well as scotch.

What he isn't expecting to see is Jared - and nothing winds him up quite as well as Jared.

Sandy is tending bar but her attention is on Danny who is stretched towards her smiling fondly as she cleans a glass. That picture of perfect bliss is contradicted heavily when Jensen looks at Jared rubbing his hand on an older man's thigh - pretty mouth whispering something into the smirking man's ear.

He recognizes the man as one of Luciano's dealers - Anthony something - and he's from old oil money. He's in one of those steel gray suits, looks as Italian as it's possible to look with slicked back hair and a cigar between his fingers. He's got big hands that make Jared's waist seem thinner than usual and when it moves from the waist to Jared's neck, Jensen's heart stutters.

He makes to move towards the pair, but then he hears Sandy calling out for him softly. As far away as Jared is (and as preoccupied), he doesn't hear, so Jensen turns towards the bar with a sigh. Sandy glances over his shoulder, most likely looking at Jared judging by the twinge of sadness in her eyes, and then beckons him to take a seat next to Danny whose hand he shakes warmly.

"Where have you been?" she asks, setting down his drink in front of him.

"Dallas," he answers, taking a sip and relishing the burn, "Business."

"Jared really likes working the animal shelter," she says, smiling, "Thank you for that."

Jensen shrugs it off and she continues, glances over his shoulder again, "He hasn't come to the bar for a while, Jensen. He's been only taking remote clients and some have even been out of the underworld. He just," she sighs, "He gets off days. You should have told him you were leaving. And, Jeffrey hasn't been here, either. Though I don't really mind that."

He smiles and finishes his drink, slapping down a twenty dollar bill next to it. He stretches over the bar to kiss her cheek and shakes hands with Danny again as he moves back towards Jared. He understands now and he's got liquid courage clouding him - he understands that Jeffrey and Jensen left suddenly at the same time and as happy Jared looks in the animal shelter, a month doesn't change bad habits. Jared always need validation - always from someone who doesn't care for him, someone older than his father, someone who'll make him feel small and used - when Jeffrey is gone. And, without Jensen, there's been no safety net.

When he's close enough, he can hear Anthony something saying, "Darling, you don't want to know," in a deep growl that makes Jared close his eyes and squirm, fingers at the man's collar - the man's fingers skirting under the hem of Jared's shirt, settling possessively over the slope of his ass.

Jensen can't help it - he wants to break the thick fingers digging into Jared. For all his understanding of Jared's profession, being in love creates irrational emotions and years erode away at patience with the little help of alcohol.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he says, with just a small hint of bite in his voice.

Jared immediately straightens, eyes wide, and he's separating himself from Anthony quickly - standing up. He must have a few drinks on him because his stance is shaky and when he fumbles, Jensen instinctively catches his elbow and pulls him close. Jared's hands rest on his shoulders consequently but he removes them quickly, stepping away until he's away from Anthony and Jensen.

"Jensen," he breathes out, pretty eyes eating him up, and Jensen smiles - relishing Jared's voice wrapping around his name.

Anthony doesn't seem particularly disturbed by the interruption - still spread out on the lounge with his hand exactly where it'd slipped off of Jared and the other still holding the cigar. Luciano's men are all affiliated with New York so Jeffrey's relation with them is obvious, but Jensen has never particularly cared for them. They're all riding the family name without having done anything to earn it and those steel gray suits are an eye sore.

"Ackles," Anthony says with a slight nod, "I have company at the moment so if you-"

"I'm not here for you," Jensen cuts him off and looks at Jared, "Can I speak with you for a little bit?"

Jared has composed himself a little by this point and now his eyes are narrowed in anger rather than anything else, but he still sounds sugar sweet as he says, "Of course," and he turns back to Anthony, resting a hand on his should and leaning down to press a kiss on the man's smirk, "I'll be right back."

Anthony preens under the attention, but Jensen knows the little stunt was all for him and Jared needn't have bothered - he's wanted to break Anthony's face the second he walked in.

 

 

They slip off to the bathroom hallway and Jared leans against the wall, staring at him.

"How have you been?" Jensen asks and Jared rolls his eyes a little, snorting.

"Yeah, you must be _real_ curious how I've been after disappearing for a month."

Having Jared alone is quickly melting the anger he'd felt at Anthony's possessive hands so he doesn't take the bait and instead steps closer. Jared looks wary as Jensen catches a flyaway strand of hair to tuck it behind his ear. His hand stays there, on the curve of Jared's neck - thumb rubbing around his soft jaw. He drinks in every inch of him - savoring every detail. Having daily updates of Jared doesn't compare to getting to see him right in front of him, getting to touch him.

After he's done with his inspection (Jared's dark circle have receded a little, his cheeks have filled out a little), he lets his hand fall away and says, "I heard you took the job. How do you like it?"

Just the mention of the animal shelter makes Jared's eyes light up but he's still cautious and his voice is still laced with anger as he says, "It's been an easy fit. Everyone's great there," and then, as if it's hurting his throat, he adds, "Thank you."

Jensen smiles and takes another step back. Something changes in Jared's expression, making the anger slip off, and he takes a step forward off of the wall. He grabs Jensen's collar softly with one hand and steps even closer, other hand hooking over Jensen's shoulder. He looks at him for a little bit and then lets his hands cup Jensen's jaw.

"I haven't slept with anyone for days and I'm not planning on breaking that pattern tonight. I want to kiss you."

Jensen's heart does a stupid little flip and then his libido catches up - and he's wrapping an arm around Jared's slim waist and slamming him back against the wall. His mouth fits over Jared's perfectly, like they've been kissing for years, and desperation claws inside him - wanting to eat Jared up, wanting to monopolize him, wanting to give voice to every possessive part of him.

Jared makes a broken little noise and opens his mouth, sweet and wide for Jensen.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, hands trying to hold Jared impossibly closer. _I love you, I love you, I love you_.

Having this - Jared in his arms - feels as catastrophic as he'd imagined.

 

 


End file.
